I'll Rant for You
by praemonitus praemunitus
Summary: Sometimes Steve turns out to be right, no matter how much Danny doesn't want him to be. He just wished "I told you so" didn't come with such heavy consequences. Steve whump, Danny angst, not much plot.


A/N Hello everyone. It's been one long busy month, and when things finally started to wind down and I sat down to finish A SEAL Burial, this one-shot took up residence in my fried brain and wouldn't let go until I agreed to put it in written form. Now that I got it down on paper (ehm, screen), I hope I can be free to wrap up my earlier story and read through all the wonderful stories that have been posted on here in the meantime.

There's not much plot here, just an excuse to work in some hurt and guilt-born comfort, I suppose. As always, I welcome your thoughts.

* * *

"All I'm saying is that he's only a kid and that maybe you should give him a break."

"A break, Danny? Really?" Steve threw back tiredly, leaning backward against his desk, as he faced his rapidly reddening partner.

In all fairness, after the week they had - two murders, a drug bust, and now, a convenience store robbery turned homicide - all he wanted was to drop face first onto his mattress and sleep for two days straight. And yet here they were, arguing about that latest case, because one of their perpetrators just happened to be a sixteen-year-old punk, whose parents had just gone through a nasty divorce. The father was firmly out of the picture, having gone back to his family somewhere on the mainland to lick his wounds, and the mother was too busy trying put her life back together to pay much attention to her son. And the kid? The kid was acting out for all he was worth: getting in trouble in school, joining a gang, and now this: a robbery, most likely the kid's initiation, gone wrong.

Steve was no fool; he could see why this case was bothering Danny so much - all the parallels, whether real or imagined, that the blond man must have been drawing between Johnny Christensen's family and his own. Especially lately, when work had been keeping Danny away from Grace more and more often. But Steve was also too exhausted to care. And the fact that the kid didn't even blink an eye before taking part in an armed robbery had his compassion – whatever was left of it – fly right out the window.

"You think that someone's entitled to get away with murder just because they're under age?"

"That's not what I'm saying at all!" the Jersey native exploded, throwing up his hands in his customarily exaggerated manner.

"No?" Steve quirked an eyebrow at that, which seemed to irritate Danny even further.

"No, Steven," the blond responded, deliberately stretching out the syllables in Steve's name. "Besides, I thought we had established that the kid wasn't actually the one who fired the weapon."

Steve waived his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Not important. If this was gang initiation, which I'm pretty sure it was, then all it means is that he failed, and if he wants to get back in their good graces, he'll have to try again."

"He won't!" Danny exploded angrily, earning himself another tired eyebrow quirk. Blowing out a shaky breath, he continued in a somewhat calmer voice, "Look, I talked to him, alright? He's just a scared, confused kid, who happened to get mixed up with the wrong crowd. He screwed up, and he gets it. And, maybe, if you give him another chance, instead of stuffing him into HPD lock-up, he'll..."

"Put on a frock and become a priest?"

Danny skewered him with a withering glare. "This is funny to you, McGarrett? I am pleading with you to help save a kid's life, and you think it's funny?"

The former SEAL let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head in mute wonder at his friend's exceedingly outraged reaction. "No, Danny, I don't. I also don't think that kid is as much of an innocent as you make him out to be. He's 16, for goodness sakes! He knows enough to be able to tell right from wrong. He made a conscious choice to walk into that store with a gun."

The grating of Danny's teeth was audible in the small room, as the blond fought for control. "Look," he exhaled finally, "I get that you have the sensitivity of a malfunctioning cyborg, but could you **TRY **to keep in mind that he **IS** only sixteen and that he did just effectively lose both of his parents?"

The dark blue eyes narrowed at that, the SEAL's features hardening in disappointment. "I lost both of my parents when I was sixteen," he reminded quietly but firmly. "I didn't decide to go around shooting convenience store clerks."

"No, you decided to train to become the world's most efficient killing machine instead." Danny knew the moment those words left his mouth that he had just crossed the line, and the realization literally took his breath away, as he stared at his partner in mute horror.

Hurt flashed in the taller man's eyes – swift and blindingly intense, like a bolt of lightning across the sky – and then it was gone, locked firmly away behind a thick brick wall that slammed down all around him, effectively shutting him off from the rest of the world and from Danny. The change was so rapid that Danny felt almost dizzy for a moment, panic gripping his insides and twisting them in a tight, uncomfortable knot.

"Steve, I–"

Steve's phone burst to life at that very moment, cutting off whatever it was that Danny was going to say. He picked it up, slowly, methodically, avoiding Danny's eyes like a plague.

"McGarrett." He listened for a moment, nodding absently into the phone. "Yeah, okay. Oh, and Duke? Have some plainclothes tail him for a few days. We might get lucky. Yeah... Thanks."

Glancing briefly back at Danny, as he shoved his phone back into his pocket, he announced, his voice dull and hollow, "Your protégé is out on bail. His mother picked him up a few minutes ago. So you don't have to worry about him spending the night in jail."

Danny swallowed, harshly, fighting to get his suddenly leaden tongue to move. "Steve..."

"Duke put a detail on him," Steve continued in the same dead voice, ignoring his partner's half-whispered plea. "My hunch is he's going to try to contact his gang buddies as soon as he feels he's in the clear. If it pans out, we might be able to round up the whole gang." He pushed off the desk, still stubbornly looking downward, as he made his way back to his chair. "If you wish to speak to Judge Iona on his behalf tomorrow, you're welcome to do it. I won't stop you."

"Please, Steve, I didn't–" Danny took a shaky step forward, desperately trying to catch the other man's eye.

"It's been a long day, Danny," Steve murmured, lowering himself slowly into his chair. "Go home. I still got paperwork to finish." There was no anger behind the carefully neutral words, just an overwhelming, bone-melting weariness.

The Jersey native lingered a few wretched, despairing moments, but his partner continued to ignore him, demonstratively pulling open a file that sat before him on the table. So with a heavy sigh, Danny turned and walked out the door, wondering grimly if he had just irreparably broken the best thing that happened to him on this godforsaken island.

H50-H50-H50- H50-H50

Steve blew out a tired breath and pressed the heels of his palms against the bleary eyes in a vain attempt to stave off sleep. Pointless. The lines on the page continued to blur before him, and finally he gave in to the inevitable. It wasn't like he could get much done anyway. Danny's heated words were beating about in his brain, smarting and merciless. _"A killing machine"... That's how his partner – a man he thought to be his best friend – saw him. What about the others? Did they see the same when they looked at him? _

Growling weakly in frustration, he slammed the file closed and pushed himself up. The room swam before him, and he grabbed hold of the desk, waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass.

_Man, he desperately needed to sleep._

Stumbling his way to the car, he practically fell into the seat and cursed loudly, as his gaze fell on the fuel gauge. _Nearly empty. No way he was going to make it home with this little fuel left. _

Sighing his defeat, he decided to make a quick stop at the nearest gas station, before heading home.

H50-H50-H50- H50-H50

"I'm disappointed in you, Johnny," a heavyset, twenty-something Hawaiian leaned back regally against the backseat cushions, his black hooded eyes staring harshly at the lanky teenager beside him. "Your first chance to prove yourself to the Brotherhood, and you chicken out? You have Makani finish your job for you?"

The teen sighed shakily, unconsciously moving closer to the safety of the door, as their dark blue _Explorer_ rolled slowly up King Street, taking him further and further away from the small apartment near Kahunu Street that he and his mother shared. "I'm really sorry, Kaleo," he managed finally, his voice uncertain. "I... I don't know what came over me. I froze."

"Hmm," the older man huffed out in disappointment and closed his eyes briefly, as if considering something. "At any rate, I'm glad you called," he spoke again, skewering his skinny companion with another hard glare. "The Brotherhood reviewed your case. And... since it appears that you have not spoken to the cops, have not given up Makani or the others..." He trailed off, watching the teen expectantly.

The latter shook his head vigorously in response. "I didn't say a word, Kaleo, I swear."

"Good," the Hawaiian nodded, seemingly satisfied, "good." Leaning across the car toward the driver seat, he tapped the man on the shoulder, speaking to him in hushed tones. "We have decided to give you another chance, Johnny," he said, turning back to the teen, who stared at him wide-eyed. "The night is still young; this street's got at least a few small shops still open." He made a wide gesture with his left hand, pointing to the night-shaded world outside. "Take your pick."

Johnny swallowed harshly, turning to stare out his own window, and froze, as his gaze landed on the gas station across the street. "That's the cop," he mumbled, unable to hide his surprise.

"The cop?" Kaleo moved closer, signaling to his men to stop the car.

"The 5-0 cop," Johnny clarified, flattered by the sudden attention, "the one who arrested me."

"You sure?" The dark eyes narrowed calculatingly, studying the lone figure that stood so completely exposed under the harsh LED lights, so perfectly unaware.

"Of course I'm sure," the teen snorted, snarling, "the guy almost broke my arm. Crazy motherfucker."

The older man smiled unkindly at that, pulled out his weapon and handed it to his protégé. "Well, looks like your choice has been made for you, then."

"Ww-what?" Johnny stuttered, staring at the gun in Kaleo's hands as though it were a snake about to bite him. "You... you can't be serious. Killing a cop?"

The Hawaiian nodded, motioning for his driver to pull up closer. "A 5-0 cop, Johnny. Do you have any idea what that's gonna do to your reputation in the Brotherhood? You'll be the golden boy, man."

"But-"

"No buts, boy. This is your last chance." And the weapon was shoved forcefully into his hand to emphasize the point.

The teen sighed, rolling down the window and taking careful, albeit shaky aim at the light-washed figure.

"Center mass, Johnny," Kaleo whispered above his ear, making him wince. "Two- three shots, and we are good to go."

He nodded, teeth biting into his lower lip, as he steadied his arm. His target turned just then, the man's gaze landing on their suspiciously idling vehicle. He could have sworn, the man was looking right at him, noticing him, recognizing him. A sudden jolt of fear made him lean back into the safety of the darkness that hid his features. But Kaleo was there, his face hard as stone, his gaze merciless, and Johnny knew his time was up. And making the choice dictated by the cowardly instinct of self-preservation, he once again moved closer to the open window and pulled the trigger.

H50-H50-H50- H50-H50

The buzzing noise was relentless, drilling into his sleep-cobwebbed mind until he could bear it no longer. Growling in frustration, he peeled his eyes open, glaring at the bedside clock. _"Four a.m. You have got to be kidding me!" _

Cursing for all he was worth, he reached for the phone, fully prepared to rip into whoever was on the other end of the line.

"Williams!" he barked into the phone, "And you better have a damn good reason for interrupting my beauty sleep."

"Danny..." Kono's voice sounded shaky somehow. "It's... it's Steve..."

He groaned, letting his head drop back onto the pillows. "What did the idiot manage to get himself into at 4 in the freaking morning?"

There was a noise on the other end that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle, and Danny suddenly felt terrifyingly cold.

"He's at the Queen's Medical," Kono managed finally, her voice thick with emotion. "You should come, Danny. It's... it doesn't look good."

And just like that Danny was brutally and widely awake.

H50-H50-H50- H50-H50

Kono met him near the entrance, her face streaked with tears.

"Danny," the rookie ran toward him, her arms going around the blond man's shoulders with a strangled gasp.

He hugged her back, swallowing past a rapidly forming lump in his throat. "What happened?" he managed hoarsely.

She sighed, sniffling loudly, before pulling away. "He was shot. Multiple times. A drive by," she whispered, wiping away an errant tear.

"A what?" Danny gaped, incredulous. "This is Hawaii, for crying out loud, not downtown Chicago."

The smile in response to his attempt at levity was forced, as she led him slowly to the waiting room. "Apparently, he stopped at a gas station on his way home. He was shot at from a passing SUV." She sniffed again, nodding at Chin who was pacing nervously in the otherwise empty waiting room. "Any word?"

The older Hawaiian shook his head grimly. "Still in surgery."

"Do we..., " Danny swallowed again, fighting to keep his voice steady, "do we know who it was? The Yakuza?"

Chin shook his head again. "Some low-profile gang. Remember that kid that McGarrett arrested yesterday afternoon?"

Danny froze, disbelieving. _"No... God, no."_

Unaware of his inner turmoil, Chin continued. "Duke said McGarrett asked to have a detail put on him. The officers were trailing the car that picked him up from his mother's home, when this happened." He pursed his lips in grim wonder. "I guess Boss was lucky they were there."

"Yeah, lucky..." Danny mumbled, his stomach roiling with nausea.

"Danny man, you okay?" Kono's worried voice sounded above his ear. "You're looking pale, brah."

"I'm... I'm fine," he managed, stumbling toward the nearest chair. _"Dear God, what have I done?"_

A warm hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump. Kono's red-rimmed eyes met his, and, dammit, he felt like crying, too, right then and there. Bawling his eyes out like a little baby, slamming his fist into the wall again and again, until he couldn't feel the pain anymore.

But he couldn't. He had to keep it together. Because crying meant mourning. And mourning meant that he was ready to let go. And he wasn't. Nowhere near that. Because there was no way he was letting Steve out of his life that easy, especially not after their last conversation. He had to make things right. And he had to hope that he would get a chance to do that_._

H50-H50-H50- H50-H50

Sun rose timidly over the horizon, bathing the sleepy town in its warm morning glow. As the first rays made their way past the haphazardly drawn blinds, breaking the gloomy shroud of darkness that reigned in the room, Danny shifted slightly in his bedside chair, coming awake with a pained groan. Gazing down at the man in bed, he sighed disappointedly, noting no change in the other man's condition.

_"At least he is alive,"_ he thought darkly. He should be thankful for that. At least there was still a chance.

Leaning forward, he picked up his friend's limp hand and wrapped it gently in both of his. "You're an honest-to-God miracle, Babe, you know that?" he whispered softly, absently squeezing the hand just a tad tighter. "The doctors have no idea how you managed to survive three gunshot wounds to the chest, but you did."

Danny snorted his amazement, once again shifting his gaze to his friend's unnaturally pale and lax face. "I guess, if anyone could survive something like this, it would be you - the Super SEAL." His voice broke on the familiar nickname, and he swallowed harshly, forcing back the tears that threatened.

"You were right, you know. The kid, Johnny Christensen, got back with his gang as soon as he was let out. He was the one, who-" He trailed off again, shaking his head in helpless anger. "HPD got them, though. Rounded up the whole lot, thanks to you."

Danny tore one hand away to wipe at the suddenly damp cheeks. "I really need you to wake up, Babe," he whispered brokenly, running that same hand through the matted dark curls. "Even if it is just so you could tell me 'I told you so'. Or yell at me. I don't care." He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a steadying breath before continuing. "I need you to know that... whatever I said to you the other day – I didn't mean it. Any of it. I need you to know that, Steve."

He sighed again, fisting his hand tighter around Steve's. "I know I hurt you, deeply. Because no matter how much you try to hide your feelings, my Neanderthal friend, I can still read you like a book. And I wish I could take back all those things I said. I would do **anything** to take it all back. And if you decide that you don't ever want to work with me or see me again, I'll... I'll respect that. But I'll try my damndest best to work my way back into your good graces. No matter what it takes. Because I need your friendship, Babe. I need **you**! Hell, I'll even swear off on any and all rants for the foreseeable future, if that means I'll get my friend back."

A feather-soft movement against his palm startled him into silence, and his eyes flew open in timorous hope, nearly bursting into tears at the sight that opened before him.

"Hey, Babe..." he breathed out, smiling down at the half-hooded bleary eyes that blinked sluggishly at him from a waxen face.

"Hey..." a weak, raspy voice greeted him back, his partner swallowing painfully against a sandpaper-dry throat.

Danny was ready with a cup of ice chips, gently sliding one of them past the chapped lips. Steve closed his eyes gratefully, falling into momentary silence, as he savored the wet coldness.

"I'm gonna get the doctor," Danny announced quietly, moving to get up. A tug on his arm stopped him short. Surprised, he glanced down to find Steve watching him expectantly. "What is it, buddy?" he asked, leaning closer to the prone man.

"Don't... give up... rants," the former SEAL gasped out, every word – a supreme effort. "I'm too... used to... them..." He trailed off, closing his eyes in exhaustion, missing the teary smile that lit his partner's face.

Giving his friend's shoulder a gentle squeeze, Danny responded fondly, "I'll rant your ears off, Babe, if it keeps you happy. Just as long as you're here for me to rant at."

Steve peeled his eyes open tiredly, fighting to focus on the face above him. "Deal," he whispered finally, and the dark blue eyes slid closed once again, his features going lax.

Moments later Danny heard his friend's breathing even out, and he reached for his phone, typing out a quick text to update Chin and Kono.

"Sleep tight, Princess," he murmured to his sleeping partner, once more pulling Steve's hand into his. "I'll be here when you wake up."

* * *

END


End file.
